


Taking a Chance at Happiness

by SebDoesWords, YellingAtPlants



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Fluff, Geralt being slightly dense, M/M, but it’s fine because Regis has all the braincells, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebDoesWords/pseuds/SebDoesWords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellingAtPlants/pseuds/YellingAtPlants
Summary: Geralt is always a little dazed after his nightmares, and for a moment, he struggles to even recognise Regis, who waits patiently with a blade at his throat.
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 19
Kudos: 129





	Taking a Chance at Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SebDoesWords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebDoesWords/gifts).



> I may have forgotten to post this for the longest time....yeah 
> 
> Credit to Seb, who basically made this make sense, and is therefore not only a beta, but also a co-creator 😌

White Violet 

When Geralt stirred that morning, he immediately knew something was wrong. Without even opening his eyes he could sense a figure blocking out the light dancing on his eyelids. It seemed whatever this shadow was had become distracted by something, so Geralt slowly crept his fingers towards his knife. It all happened in a blur – Geralt’s eyes snapped open and he’d already lunged forward, drawing the knife from his boot and pressing it to the unknown figure’s throat. He stared at them through wild strands of hair, his mind addled from the nightmare he had just had, and which he could feel only in the sweat cooling against his neck. 

“Honestly, my dear friend, you really ought to move towards asking the questions before killing the suspect.” The voice was right at the front of his mind, and for a moment he struggled before recognition struck him. 

“Regis!” he grunted in shock, moving back and tucking his knife back into his boot. He huffed, the adrenaline wearing off all at once, and sat back down in a patch of white violets. He heard some birds in the distance, fleeing the commotion that the witcher had made, and there was a slight dampness to the ground that he couldn’t feel through his armour, but tickled against his bare wrists as he brushed a hand through the flowers. 

“A wonderful morning to you too, Geralt.” The vampire stood and dusted himself off, looking awfully calm for a man who just had a knife to his throat. Though Geralt knew that this was neither an entirely new sensation to Regis, nor one spelling any significant amount of danger for him.

“What the fuck were you doing? You don’t just hover over a man like that and expect not to be stabbed in the throat.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he spotted the stew, steadily boiling over the fire that Regis had kept going throughout the night. 

“Well, studies have shown that by viewing the expressions of a man who is asleep, you can see the emotions he chooses to hide in his waking hours.” The familiar half-smile was back, and Geralt found himself staring, capturing the details and storing them in a mind that already knew them all. 

“Oh yeah? And did mine tell you I definitely don’t apreciate being watched?” he collected his bowl from the saddlebags and settled back down beside the merry fire, grateful for it in the brisk morning air, which held the promise of a sunny day, still barely surfacing over the trees. 

“Quite the opposite in fact, I do believe, although you may have reacted out of instinct, it was me watching you.”Regis looked all too pleased with himself, sitting there boiling a stew that contained god knows what. And Geralt found himself chuckling quietly. 

“Something amusing my friend?” The raised eyebrow, the little smile, the steady hands working on something he didn’t appear to be focused on, but was definitely paying full mind to. 

“Ah, nothing Regis. Do I wanna know what that contains?” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the stew. 

“Oh but of course! One cup of beef broth, one diced onion, three sliced mushrooms, one pinch salt and two sprigs of dried thyme. Along with some wild garlic for additional flavour, and-“ As Regis continued his rant about whatever was in their stew, Geralt took the moment to study him. Despite the months that had passed, Regis hadn’t changed a bit. He still wore the same intricate shirt, the same ratty gambeson, he was still just as pale as the last time he saw him. Geralt found an odd comfort in quite how little had changed. 

“-Dried petals to add- dear me you haven’t been listening at all, have you?” Regis finally seemed to notice his lack of attention, and Geralts eyes snapped from the vampire, embarrassed at being caught so blatantly staring. 

“Hmm? Oh... Yeah whatever.” He huffed, trying to play it off but knowing from Regis’ entirely unimpressed expression he hadn’t even slightly convinced the vampire. 

“Ah, however, as in a lot of recipes, it mentions that adding a fresh rabbit to the stew, of course skinned and cut, will add to the overall flavour of it. I do believe it would be a good idea if you-“ 

“Yeah, course. Roach’ll look after you while I’m gone.” He knew full well Regis could protect himself, but seeing that smile made it worth saying the occasional stupid thing. 

“Ah but of course she will. She is an excellent mare. I do believe her breed is especially adept at-“ once again, Geralt tuned him out, strapping his swords to his back and tilting the last of his water into his palms to give Roach a drink. Each time his hair fell into his eyes he let out a frustrated growl, and he didn’t even realise Regis had stopped talking until there was a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, fingers flying to his sword, but he relaxed instantly when he saw Regis standing so close. 

“Come, sit.” It was shockingly to the point for the vampire, and Geralt found himself complying, settling on the ground near a fallen branch. He frowned when he heard Regis kneel behind him, and then there were long fingers carding through his hair, and he sighed involuntarily. He thought he heard a chuckle behind him, but he hardly noticed it, his mind fixed on the way Regis dragged his nails across his scalp, working out the tensions there and detangling each messy strand as he went. Soon enough, there was a steady stream of facts coming from Regis that the witcher didn’t understand. He was content not to. Geralt huffed a quiet laugh when he felt Regis begin to braid his hair. Not having the heart or feeling the need to, Geralt didn’t make any move to stop the barber-surgeon, smiling to himself. 

There would be time later to ask Regis where he had been, when he’d checked the traps for some rabbits and they’d eaten their stew. There would be plenty of time to talk about herbs and their varying stages of usefulness. 

There would be plenty of time to talk about them, about what they were, where they would go next. There would be moments where Geralt didn’t understand Regis, and moments where the vampire didn’t understand him. 

There would be plenty of time to learn to understand. 

Because Geralt didn’t plan on letting his friend leave again.

**Author's Note:**

> How did I do 👉🏼👈🏼


End file.
